


And They Were Roommates

by Alatariel_Galadriel



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Slice of Life, how does one use tags, race is a little shit, race is though, spot is Grumpy, spot is Not A Morning Person, sprace, these boys are hot messes, this idiots are so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 09:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17743751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alatariel_Galadriel/pseuds/Alatariel_Galadriel
Summary: Just some domestic Sprace living together and driving each other crazy in the best way possible.





	And They Were Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> Race is an morning person and Spot most definitely is not. They both love to mess with each other.

Spot woke up, which was his first problem. It was too early, and something very heavy and bony was on his back. He shoved it off. 

“Go ‘way,” he grumbled. Wrapped himself deeper into his blankets. His alarm was beeping, somewhere. Easily ignorable. 

Race was not. 

Spot landed on the floor. Ow. 

He groaned, and something dug into his ribs. Spot groaned louder. He heard Race laughing. 

Bastard. 

Race pulled him up and shoved him forward. 

Spot was…slightly more awake when Race deposited him in the bathroom and left. Not by much. Spot grumbled to himself a little more and got ready for his shower. 

This had been their routine for pretty much forever. Spot could (and would) sleep through the apocalypse, so Race took it upon himself to wake Spot up. Every morning. With great enthusiasm. Spot had a sneaking suspicion-no, he knew-that Race enjoyed it. 

Spot huffed. Bastard or not, Race was the only reason Spot was on time, ever. Somedays, Spot might even be begrudgingly grateful for Race. Not that he would ever admit that. 

Spot turned on the water, drowning out the sound of Race whistling cheerily in the other room. 

\---o----

Spot emerged from his room, feeling slightly less like a zombie than before and was greeted by the sight of Race perched on the counter, swinging his feet back and forth. As always, far too energetic for the ungodly hour of-whatever time it was. Race perked up when he saw him, opening his mouth, but Spot cut him off. 

“Nope. You’re already making my head hurt. Go be a morning person somewhere else, gremlin. ” Spot grumbled. 

“Even if I made you something special?” Race teased, sliding out a steaming cup from behind him and holding it out. 

Spot snatched the coffee and took a big gulp, letting the bitter liquid scorch his throat. He hummed in appreciation. 

“Why, my eternal gratitude to you, Racer,” Race said his deepest voice, a poor approximation of Spot’s, “You’re so very kind to have gone out of your way to make me this delicious brew. I’m ever so deeply indebted to you, you majestic human being. I love you so much,” 

He switched back to his normal voice, “Aw, stop it Spotty, you’s makin’ me blush,” 

Spot snorted. “Oh yeah, took the words right out of my mouth,” He plopped himself into a chair and continued to nurse his coffee. 

Race chattered on as Spot finished his coffee. As much as Spot complain, its nice just to hear Racer babble. Racer loved to talk and Spot loved the sound of his voice. 

When Spot finished his coffee, he set it by the growing mountain of dishes in the sink. He took a step back and whistled. 

“Wow, we’s a mess,” He mumbled, sighing, then turned on the water and grabbed the dish soap. 

Race grabbed a dishtowel from the cabinet next to him, but stayed perched on the counter. 

“You’s just now figuring that out?” Race asked, “C’mon, I realized that years ago”. 

“Hey, shut it, smart-ass.” 

“Ya know, we really need to get an adult around here to get this shit done,” Race mused, looking around. 

Spot shot him a look. 

“…We’s both adults, Racer." 

“Adultier adults! Adults more adult than us!” Race waved his hands to emphasize his point, managing to dumping what was left of his coffee on the table in the process. 

Spot rolled his eyes, grabbing a new dishtowel and starting to mop up the spilled coffee. Race hadn’t moved, staring sadly at his now-empty mug. Spot nudged Race with his elbow.

“Move ya butt, Racer, you’s in my way,” 

Race hopped off the counter, but then ducked under Spot’s arm, somehow squirming himself into the approximately three inches between Spot and the counter. 

“Me? In your way?” Race grinned, then wrapped his arms around Spot’s waist, gently holding him in place. “Never!” 

Spot grumbled, but he also let himself sink into the hug for moment, slotting his chin onto Race’s shoulder. 

After a few seconds, he started to pull away. Race held him tighter. He sighed. 

“C’mon, Race, we gotta get this kitchen cleaned up.” 

Race whined and squeezed him for a second, then let go. Spot gently shoved him out of the way to finish cleaning up the coffee. After barely a second, however, Race wrapped his arms around him from behind. Spot sighed, halfheartedly shrugging him off. 

“You’s a fucking octopus, Race” 

“I can’t help it! You’s so nice to hug, like a teddy-bear, all short and-“

Spot swatted him with the towel. 

“Shut it, you,” He threw the towel at Race, who caught it deftly, “Go throw that with the rest of the laundry.” 

Race stuck out his tongue at him, walking backwards out of the room. 

Spot walked to the pile of dishes and turned on the water, starting to scrub. Race joined him a minute later with a fresh towel, drying and putting away the dishes. They worked in companionable silence for a while, Race softly humming beside him. 

“Ain’t ya gonna eat breakfast, Spot?” Race asked once the dish pile had shrunk to a more manageable level, bumping Spot with his hip. 

Spot affectionately flipped him off, and Race swatted his hand. 

“I’ve told ya a million times, I don’t eat breakfast,” Spot said, “Besides, I wanna get all these done.” 

“Mhm,” Race hummed, grabbing a plate and wiping it dry. 

After a few minutes of silence, Spot glanced sideways, then quickly splashed a little water at Race. 

He kept a straight face, continuing to scrub as Race looked at him suspiciously, clearly trying to figure out if the splash had been purposeful or not. After a second, he went back to drying. 

Spot splashed him again. 

Race whirled back on him, and this time Spot wasn’t able to stop the corners of his mouth from lifting. 

“Oh, you’s started it, now!” Race shouted, then slapped his hand on the standing water in the sink, sending a wave of sudsy water over Spot’s shirt. Spot quickly returned the favor, only for Race to flick a handful of water straight into his face. 

Spot grabbed the detachable faucet he had been using to rinse, and sprayed Race directly in the face. 

There was a beat of silence, then Race leveled a look at Spot, the mischievous glint in his eyes to make Spot take a step back. 

“You brought this upon yourself,” Race warned, then lunged at Spot. 

Spot barely made it out of the kitchen when Race tackled him from behind onto the carpet. Before he could throw Race off, he felt Race’s fingers lightly prod his side, and that’s when he knew he was screwed. 

Spot was horribly, ridiculously ticklish. It was one of his best kept secrets, which meant that Race had figured it out within a week of knowing him. 

He tried to throw Race off, but Race wrapped his limbs around him and clung on like the fucking octopus that he was, mercilessly tickling until Spot was a wheezing lump on the floor. 

Race finally, finally, stopped, sitting on Spot’s chest and pinning as Spot slowly caught his breath. 

“Do you yield?” Race asked, grinning. 

“Cheater,” Spot gasped out. 

Race wiggled his fingers threateningly, digging his knees into Spot’s side. 

“Yes! Yes, I yield, you asshole!” Spot said quickly, half-laughing despite of himself. 

“Yeah, but you love me,” Race teased, also laughing. 

Race leaned forward, and kissed Spot, softly and deeply. Spot returned the kiss enthusiastically, grabbing Race under the shoulders and easily flipping their positions. 

After a minute, Race put his hand on Spot’s chest and lightly pushed him back, making Spot pause and shoot Race a questioning look. 

“You’s gonna be late for work,” Race said, nodding towards the clock in the corner. 

Spot followed his gaze and cursed, jumping up. He fumbled around the apartment, pulling on a dry shirt and grabbing his shoes. He hopped around the room trying to pull on his shoes without actually stopping, almost falling on his face in the process. Race cackled from his new perch on the couch. 

When he had his life a little more together, he headed towards the door. Right before he got there, Race grabbed his arm. 

“Hey, Spotty?” Race asked, smiling when Spot paused and turned, “I love you.” 

Spot smiled at him softly. 

“I love you too.” He said, and pulled Racer into a warm, fierce hug. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
